Author's Note:

Yes, I know. I been bad. It's been awhile. But between the website's random spurts of offline status lately and my lack of inspiration due to the loss of my cat companion I've been worthless as a writer. Rumour was a part of my life for the last ten years until he died almost two weeks ago, so losing his crazy kitty presence has been quite the adjustment for me. It was especially hard to take since he seemed to be in perfect health and his death was completely unexpected. He died in his sleep though and looked really peaceful, so I'm glad he didn't have to suffer. I even got a chance to say goodbye, though I didn't know that's what it was, because he came to visit me the night he died and spent more time than usual with me. Ah, but enough sad stuff. Let's get on to the angsty fic! (Do ya see why it's been kind of hard to write since I've had a little angst of my own?) I'm just glad I have my writing bug back! I hope you enjoy what the little bug and I produced. Boy, did that ever sound wrong. But things have been wrong ever since I met that Randy guy. Sorry, inside joke.

Chapter 23

Beyond the Invisible

Robin stirred from her half-sleep at the sound of a car door snapping shut. Grumbling quietly at the intrusion into her drowsy world hovering on the edge of consciousness, she squirmed slightly in her seat when she heard the door on her side of the car open and felt a cool breeze sneak inside, stirring the hem of her skirt. Her small frown of discomfort faded when she felt a hand reach across her to unfasten her seat belt, the warmth of a body leaning close. Hands slipped beneath her knees and around her waist, lifting her gently out of the car and closer to the warm chest. She had only moved a few inches, though, before the pressure increasing against the bruises on her back caused her to involuntarily cry out in pain.

Now fully awake, she found herself looking up into charcoal eyes darkened with worry. "I'm sorry," Amon murmured, his voice soft and fragile--two words she had never thought to use in describing Amon.

Attempting to reassure him with a weak smile, she wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to pull herself out of the car. In the end, he did most of the work since she merely clung to him as he rose to his feet. She sighed softly as she leaned against him, feeling so weary she was content to merely stand there hanging on him all night if it meant she didn't have to move again. Her legs felt like marshmallow, and she barely had the energy to simply stay standing.

As if he sensed this, Amon reached down and hooked his hands behind her knees, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his waist. She obligingly clung to him more tightly, burying her face in the crook of his neck and drinking in the comfort of his presence. Amon closed the car door gently before heading for the building, wrapping one hand securely around her lower back low enough to avoid her bruises. Robin suddenly felt rather like a child, for though she had never been carried like this when she was young, she had seen parents carrying their children in this manner. She wasn't quite sure what to think of that feeling in context, but she was also unsure she even wanted to consider its greater significance at all; for the moment, she was simply satisfied enjoying the sensation of feeling so safe and protected.

When they were standing outside her door, Amon paused and murmured in her ear, "We're here," before releasing his firm grip on her waist. Sliding back down to her feet and relinquishing their closeness with reluctance, she turned to face her door groggily, grateful for the steadying touch of one of his hands still lingering on her waist. Unlocking the door quickly and fumbling only a little with the keys, she stumbled inside, reaching back to snag his arm and ensure that he followed her; she was not about to let him perform one of his typical emotional turnabouts and leave her alone right now.

Bending down despite the complaints of her abused body, she reached for her boots and attempted to unknot the laces. The next thing she knew, the room had turned sideways and she was in Amon's arms again as he guided her to sit on the low step a few feet inside the door. Feeling rather disoriented, she looked up at him, searching his eyes fearfully. He did not explain what had just happened, focusing instead on taking over the task of removing her shoes. She gave in to him, watching his fingers deftly untie the laces which had seemed like a hopeless puzzle to her lethargic mind.

He pulled her to her feet after tugging off her shoes and tossing them on the floor next to his own, guiding her into the kitchen before pushing her down into a chair. She watched him search fruitlessly around the kitchen for a moment, entranced by his frenetic movements before she realized what he was most likely looking for: a washrag probably, and bandages. "In the hall closet," she mumbled so softly she wasn't sure he had even heard her, but he quickly disappeared down the hallway, only to reappear a minute later with the expected objects in hand.

She must have dozed off then, because the next thing she was aware of was the sharp sting of pain just above her right eyebrow as Amon gently cleaned away the dried blood surrounding the cut on her head. Biting her lower lip to hold back the tears welling in her eyes at the pain, she watched Amon as he worked. His expression was so incredibly intense and focused she might have laughed had the circumstances been different; he looked as if he were doing surgery, not cleaning a simple cut. He took just as much care cleaning the cuts on her arm, and she continued watching him silently, feeling far more awake than she had a few minutes before--partially due to the discomfort of having her injuries probed, but also partially because the reality of their situation had finally caught up with her.

A week ago, she wouldn't have believed Amon could be so gentle. He had rarely treated her with kindness before, and the few kind gestures he had made--the purchase of her glasses for one--usually came in the company of reprimands and anger. Somehow she had always known her partner had a good heart behind his aloof demeanor and callous attitude, but she had not allowed herself to imagine, except for in her most private of fantasies, that he would ever truly treat her as his partner, let alone his friend. Yet in the last week, he had shown her a side of himself she had hoped, but never entirely believed, existed. She still didn't know if he considered her his partner; for every instance in which he asked for her opinion or followed her lead, there was another instance in which he betrayed her trust or failed to include her. She didn't even know if he truly considered her his friend. But she did know that on some level he did care for her, and she suspected that at this moment, he needed her as much as she needed him.

"Amon," she murmured when he had finished cleaning the cuts on her arm, wishing he would raise his gaze to meet hers instead of continuing to look down, his face shadowed by unruly locks of black hair. "You don't have to tell me if you'd rather not talk about it, but--"

"You want to know about Simone," he interrupted, his gaze still focused on her arm as he began wrapping it in layers of gauze.

She hesitated for a moment, marveling at his ability to predict the direction of her thoughts. Of all the hundreds of questions clamoring in her head at the moment, how had he known that would be the first one she would ask? "Yes."

"Simone is my daughter," Amon replied simply.

A gasp escaped Robin's lips before she could think to hold it back. Her mind raced to integrate this piece of information into the fractured enigma of puzzle pieces which represented her understanding of Amon. She realized she couldn't find a place for it anywhere; she was still missing far too many pieces to complete the picture. "Your daughter," she echoed, trying to imagine Amon as a father and realizing it wasn't as impossible as she might have thought. He may not have been the one in charge of the STN-J, but Amon had certainly taken on the role of father figure at the office. Zaizen never got involved enough to play the part, and the Chief's involvement generally ended when they left the office, but Amon lead them effortlessly whether they were at the office or out on a hunt. Despite his constant emotional detachment, his actions made it obvious that he still worried about them and was doing his best to look after them. He bailed them out when they made mistakes--though not without a stern chastisement--and he inspired trust and obedience even when his actions were inscrutable. She might not have been the best judge of a person's suitability as a father since she had never had one of her own, but she knew enough to recognize at least a few of the necessary traits.

Then a thought occurred to her: how had he kept his daughter hidden all of this time? She couldn't be living with him. And he was dating Touko, so the mother must not be around either. As if he had read her mind once again, he clarified softly as he finished tying off her bandage, "Simone doesn't know about me. She was adopted by a couple shortly after her birth. She doesn't know they aren't her real parents."

"Her mother?" Robin asked tentatively, unsure how far she should push this topic of conversation, no matter how much she wanted to know the truth. Amon had always been extremely closed-mouthed about personal issues in the past, and she doubted he would give her much more information than she absolutely needed to know now.

Releasing her arm, but still keeping his gaze far from her own, he answered with a short sigh, "Her mother . . . is dead."

"I'm sorry," Robin breathed, dropping her gaze to her hands, now both cradled in her lap. She suddenly felt guilty for forcing Amon to talk about a subject which was obviously so painful for him.

He covered one of her hands lightly with his own, the delicate touch of his calloused fingertips against her skin making her shiver. She looked up again to find him looking at her with an intent expression. "You shouldn't apologize for things that aren't your fault," he said so softly she had to strain to hear his words. Turning his attention to packing away the bandages, he continued in a hollow voice. "It's true that Simone's mother is dead, but Simone is actually better off this way. It gives her the opportunity to grow up beyond the reach of Solomon and outside their influence." He paused, his voice breaking slightly and his hand faltering as he slid the antibacterial cream into the first aid kit. "That's why I never wanted Zaizen to find out about her. I didn't want her to have to pay for my sins."

This time it was Robin's turn to reach for him as she slid her fingers over his hand, surprised to find him trembling ever so slightly. "What are we going to do, Amon? Zaizen has to be stopped."

"We are going to do nothing," Amon snapped, startling her with his vehemence. "I will take care of him myself if I have to, but I don't want you involved."

"But Amon--"

"No. I won't have you paying for my sins either." He met her gaze again with a sad expression twisting his features, such anguish burning in his eyes that her heart ached with the desire to soothe it away.

"Zaizen is not your responsibility alone, Amon. We've all worked for him without knowing what kind of a monster he is, so we're all responsible for bringing him to justice." She paused, watching his face for a reaction but finding none. "If I had been able to use my power tonight, I think I might have burnt him to ashes on the spot. No one's ever made me that angry before."

His grey eyes focused on her for several long moments, the emotions clouding them too tangled for her to interpret. "I made you promise to defend yourself against him with your craft," he began softly, "but then I took away your ability to use it when you needed it. I was too late to stop Beatrice from using you, and then I was too late to stop Zaizen from hurting you or Michael."

Robin found herself frowning. "Now you're the one taking blame for things beyond your control."

"We have less than twenty-four hours to stop Beatrice," he replied, his expression darkening and his mask slipping enough to let his weariness show through. "We are injured and exhausted, and we have no clue how to even find her, much less put a stop to her plans."

"We will find a way," she responded resolutely, the determination in her voice causing him to look at her in surprise, his features softening.

"How can you be so certain?" he asked quietly, the insecurity in his voice making her own confidence waver.

Refusing to show how much she depended on his strength to bolster her own, she replied firmly, "Beatrice's plans are tainted by wicked, self-serving desires. Her wishes to rule this world with her fellow demons are opposed to the wishes of every human being wanting to continue living. Our wishes cannot count for nothing. God knows the needs of even the tiniest living creature--he hears our prayers, and he will give us the strength to defeat her."

His expression tight, he leaned back in his chair and turned his attention to the dimly lit living room. "I don't know if I believe in your God anymore, Robin. I want to . . . but I'm just not sure I can." (1)

"He still believes in you, Amon," she whispered faintly in reply, "even if you no longer believe in him."

"Well," he sighed quietly, rising to his feet slowly, and pulling her out of the chair with a gentle grip on her uninjured arm, "I suppose it doesn't matter in the end anyway." He brushed a stray bang out of her face. "You're the one with the faith to get us through this, and I do believe in you."

Robin felt tears stinging her eyes suddenly. Her hands had found their way to his shoulders, seemingly of their own volition, but she gasped when she felt the shredded fabric on his left shoulder and sleeve. Blinking away her tears, she looked closer and saw dried blood crusted around the rents in his coat. "Amon, you're hurt!" His eyes widened slightly before glancing down at his shoulder as if he had forgotten about the wound entirely. Before he could protest, she pushed him back into his chair, uncertain where her sudden burst of strength had come from, but grateful for it.

"It doesn't hurt," he commented, watching her as she began pulling his coat off of him carefully. "Dante gave me something that took away the pain."

"It should still be cleaned and bandaged," she replied insistently, pushing the coat over the back of the chair and reaching for the buttons of his undercoat, trying to ignore the darkened patch of deep red staining the fabric. She was so intent on the task at hand that she didn't even consider the intimacy of the situation until she had reached the last button and began removing the jacket, her fingers brushing against his chest with only the thin material of his undershirt separating their skin. A blush instantly heated her cheeks as realization hit her and she risked a quick glance at his face to find him looking at her with the same kind of dark, fiery expression she had seen in his eyes the night before.

Forcing herself to concentrate, she gingerly finished removing the undercoat from his injured shoulder before tearing away the tattered remains of his shirt surrounding the wound. She turned to the sink to rinse out the washrag and dampen it again, but found a wave of dizziness threatening to upset her balance as she turned back to him. Exhaling softly in frustration as she swayed on her feet, she felt his hands steadying her with a firm grip on her waist.

"You shouldn't be doing this," he stated with a touch of anger in his voice. "You likely have a concussion and should be in bed asleep right now. I can take care of this myself." (2)

Ignoring his arguments, she avoided his gaze, though she could still feel it burning into her as she continued cleaning away the long lines of blood crisscrossing his shoulder. He did not react to her actions; in fact, he didn't show any sign of pain at all. After a few moments of cleaning, she understood why. When the last layer of dried blood had been washed away, she did not find deep gashes in his skin as she had expected; instead, she found faint lines of pink, nearly healed and barely visible. He did react slightly in discomfort when she touched this sensitive skin, but the wounds were entirely closed and no fresh blood came to the surface. "Amon . . ." she breathed in amazement. "It's healed already."

He raised an eyebrow as he turned his attention to his shoulder again. A wry smile quirked the corner of his mouth. "It seems that orb Dante gave me did more than simply ease the pain." Relief washed over her as she realized her panicked worries over his health were unnecessary. Unfortunately, her newfound reservoir of strength leaked out of her along with her anxiety, and she found herself grateful for his support as her knees went weak again and she leaned against him to remain standing. "Are you satisfied now?" he demanded, anger returning to his voice. "My injuries are far from life-threatening. You, on the other hand, look like you're half dead."

Pushing himself to his feet, he shrugged out of the other half of his undercoat before leading her down the hall to her room--she was too exhausted to even wonder how he knew the way. He pushed her onto the edge of the bed before glancing around the sparse bedroom for something. "You can't sleep in those clothes," he muttered in a halting voice. Then he noticed a discarded article of clothing hanging over the footboard of the bed. Picking up the oversized t-shirt, he pushed it into her hands quickly before looking away from her. She watched him curiously as he swallowed and cleared his voice before offering hesitantly, "Do you . . . need help . . . ?" It was difficult to tell for sure in the dim moonlight illuminating her room, but his pale skin seemed darker than usual, and she had to wonder if it could be possible that Amon was blushing. (3)

Her own cheeks burning, she replied quickly, "I can do it." Without another word, he abruptly turned his back on her, apparently waiting for her to change. Turning the t-shirt right side out, she set it down before fumbling with the buttons on her shirt, wincing as she worked her way out of it. She had a bit of difficulty unzipping her skirt since it forced her to strain her muscles, but she hurried to finish the process of undressing when she saw Amon flinch slightly at her soft gasp of pain. Her clothes discarded on the floor at her feet, she struggled back onto the bed, murmuring, "I'm done," though she wasn't entirely sure why she was telling him or even why he had stayed at all.

A moment later, he was pulling back the covers and helping her slide beneath them, tucking her into bed. She could do nothing but look up at him in shock, unbelieving that this was the same man she had worked with for several months now--the man who only rarely seemed able to spare a shred of approval or kindness for her and who generally treated her as if her mere existence annoyed him. Granted, he had shown a gentler side of himself lately, but sometimes his uncharacteristic actions still temporarily halted her mental processes.

When he was finished arranging her blankets and she was still gaping up at him in shock, he leaned over her and placed a feather-light kiss against her forehead, careful to avoid the bruised side of her face. She caught the tattered remnants of his shirt when he started to pull away, feeling a wave of panic at the thought of being alone. "Amon," she pleaded in a small voice, "please. Don't go."

"I'm not leaving," he murmured back. "I'll just be in the other room."

"Please," she whispered again, her hands still twisted into the thin fabric of his shirt.

Sighing softly, a faint smile touched his lips as he teased, "You're a little old to be afraid of monsters under the bed, aren't you, Robin?"

Frowning in hurt at the insult, she retorted quietly, "You know that's not what I'm afraid of."

"Yes," he whispered finally in resignation. "I know. I just don't think this is such a good idea."

"Please," she begged one more time, her voice so small and pathetic she felt a little embarrassed by it.

But that final plea must have pushed him over the edge since, without another objection, he disentangled her fingers from his shirt gently before climbing up on the bed next to her, laying down top of the covers and pulling her close, his arm thrown across her waist and her face tucked up against his neck. "Now, go to sleep," he instructed firmly.

Cuddling up against the comfort of his weight and warmth, she felt herself drifting off to sleep almost before the words had escaped his lips.

Amon glanced at the alarm clock glowing from Robin's bedside table before dropping his head back to the pillow with a sigh.

Four in the morning. Again. This time though, despite his weariness, he hadn't drifted off to sleep long enough to even have a dream.

The girl curled up against his side with her head nestled in the crook of his arm snuggled a little closer before echoing his sigh, though hers was far sweeter than his own. He was glad to see she was still deeply asleep and undisturbed by his restlessness. Stroking one hand lightly over her silky hair, he watched her as she slept, her creamy skin almost glowing in the moonlight flooding through the gauzy curtain. She looked like an angel, and yet, a demon had its claws in her, and unless he could find a way to stop that demon, Beatrice would use Robin to open the gates of hell and bring an end to life as they knew it.

Sighing again and rolling away from her slowly, he attempted, as he had done on several other occasions already during the course of the night, to pull out of her reach and slip off the bed. Sleep was hard enough to find with all the thoughts and concerns troubling his mind, but it was nearly impossible to attain in such close proximity to Robin, with the scent of her skin filling his nostrils and her silken puffs of breath on his neck. Unfortunately, as she had done in response to every other escape attempt he had made, Robin instinctively followed him, curling herself even closer, this time her head sliding to rest on his chest. She made a soft sound of contentment in her sleep, and he arched his head back on the pillow, suppressing a groan of frustration.

He felt vaguely guilty about the situation, knowing it had been foolish of him to indulge her request in the first place, but also realizing it was simply another example of her ability to break through his defenses and force him to act against his better judgment. He had to admit it was comforting to hold her in his arms and know she was safe, but he found the sensation quickly making him feel possessive of her, which was an unhealthy feeling for him to have. She did not belong to him, nor did he even deserve to have her; he did not deserve to claim something so pure and undeniably good. Nevertheless, looking down at the blond head burrowed against his chest and the delicate hand snagged in the front of his shirt, he found himself wondering whether it even mattered anymore what he did or did not deserve. I may not be worthy of claiming her, but she has certainly laid claim to me. How am I supposed to keep pushing her away?

Regardless of his uncertainty, his first responsibility right now was to keep Robin alive and to destroy Beatrice. Zaizen was next on his list, but that particular task would have to wait until later. Retribution against Zaizen would take some careful maneuvering and strategizing; Zaizen had far too many failsafes in place to warrant anything other than extreme caution. Amon knew the details would work themselves out in the end, but of one thing he was certain: Zaizen would suffer. It would be Zaizen's turn to beg for mercy. Amon himself had never done such a thing; he had kept quiet and never made a sound, no matter how brutal the beating. But Zaizen . . . Amon knew without a doubt the man would crumble eventually.

A bitter smile touched Amon's lips as he looked around the room and considered the irony of the fact that he was lying in Touko's apartment plotting how to destroy her father. The circumstances were simply too bizarre for words. Touko had never been terribly close to her father, but Amon doubted that meant she would support an attempt on Zaizen's life. Killing a lover's family members was not exactly acceptable. Not that Touko could really be considered his lover anymore anyway; Zaizen had made it clear such a thing was no longer an option, but Amon had decided he was no longer interested in continuing their relationship even before that point. However, Touko had also always been rather possessive of him, so he doubted that, even if she knew their relationship was over, she could accept him spending the night in bed with a fifteen-year-old girl snuggled up against his side, especially when that girl was her roommate and that bed was in her apartment.

Smothering the now familiar torrent of guilt, Amon glanced at the clock again. Four fifteen. Combing a hand through his untidy hair and scratching his fingernails over his scalp with almost painful pressure, he came to a decision. If he didn't find a way out of this bed in the next five minutes, either his brain was going to explode--leaving a rather messy situation behind for Robin--or he was going to lose the battle against his restraint once and for all and instigate something incredibly inappropriate and unlawful involving his bedmate. She would likely enjoy the experience, but that was not really the issue. His choice was clear.

He managed to extricate himself from the dangerous situation with a minute and a half left to spare, though he found himself staring down at the bed for twice that much time, watching Robin's chest rise and fall in slow, even breaths and feeling a pang of regret for leaving the reassurance of her closeness.

Then, he turned on his heel and silently slipped out into the hallway, shutting the door halfway behind him. Turning on a lamp in the living room, he retrieved his phone from the pocket of his coat before sinking down into the couch. He was surprised to find he had several messages, but then he remembered he had never turned the ringer on again after the hunt. Pushing the button for voicemail, he put the phone to his ear to minimize the volume and avoid waking Robin.

"You have three new messages," the clinically mechanical voice informed him. "First message, 1:38 am . . ."

A burst of feminine laughter erupted on the phone but quieted quickly. "Wow, you might want to change your voice mail greeting, Amon," Doujima exclaimed, her voice still colored with laughter as she continued at a rapid pace, "I guess Michael hacked into your mailbox sometime last week and he and Sakaki redid the greeting as a joke--" They did what? Amon suppressed his flash of anger to concentrate on listening to the rest of the message.

"Hey," Sakaki's voice said from the background, "leave me out of it. I didn't have anything to do with it."

"Oh, you're such a little liar," Doujima accused Sakaki before sighing in annoyance. "Anyway, Amon, I was just calling to let you know we checked in on Michael and got him all fixed up. He'll be all righty-ringy-roo in no time. Karasuma said we shouldn't bug you, but I thought it would ease your mind to know . . ."

"Jesus Christ, Doujima," Sakaki shrieked suddenly, "do you think you could try to at least stay on the frickin' road half the time?"

"I am on the road, freaktard!" Doujima shouted before reigning in her voice again with difficulty. "Um, so, I guess that's about it. Oh, and we discussed the, um . . . situation concerning the Director . . . and we think it might be a good idea for you and Robin to avoid the office tomorrow. I mean, I know that's your decision and all, but we don't have time to be patching everyone up all the time if we're going to kick Beatrice's little demon ass tomorrow night."

"Omigod, Doujima, just give me the phone!" Sakaki cried after a squeal of tires and a loud honk. Several rustles and curses later, Sakaki said into the phone, "Um, sorry about that. Doujima drank like a triple espresso cappuccino when we were at the hospital and she doesn't seem to realize she's moving like ten times faster than the world around her." He paused, seemingly to collect his thoughts. "Damn, this is a long message. I can't believe it hasn't cut me off yet--"

"End of message. To delete this message--" the computerized voice cut in suddenly and Amon hit the delete button. "Message deleted. Next message, 1:43 am."

"Uh, it's me again," Sakaki said when the message started, chuckling under his breath. "I forgot how funny that greeting was . . . the cactuars kill me." Cactuars? Just what kind of greeting did they make? And what the hell was a cactuar, anyway? "I just called back to let you know we're meeting with Dante and Trish tomorrow morning . . . well, I guess technically later today, but anyway . . . Doujima and I are going to get started tonight on finding a way to break that spell on Robin. We may not be hackers like Michael, but there's all kinds of crazy stuff on the internet if you know where to look. So, um, I guess we'll see you at Harry's around eleven tomorrow--er, today. Whatever. So, um bye!"

"Message deleted. Next message, 1:56 am."

"Hmm . . . that was interesting," Dante voice intoned, clearing his throat. "I didn't figure you for the crazy greeting type." Despite his curiosity, Amon was beginning to wonder if he really wanted to hear this greeting at all. Maybe it would be better to just delete it and record a new one—and the sooner the better. (4) "Well, whatever . . . different strokes and all that. I'm kind of surprised you didn't answer the phone yourself since it was busy the first time I called--not that I mind. Talking to your voicemail is a lot less annoying than talking to the real thing, but I digress . . . Yurika said Robin's with you. Yeah, sorry about that. The babe snuck off almost before you were out of sight. I'm glad to hear she's okay though . . . I was worried." The sincerity in Dante's gruff voice revealed just how worried he was about Robin's safety, and Amon actually felt a modicum of respect for the demon hunter in response.

"Trish and I are going to catch a couple hours of sleep, and then we're going to get started tracking Beatrice down. We don't have much time left to stop her, and the sooner we get started the less time she has to cover her tracks. I think everyone's planning on meeting at Harry's for an early lunch around 11:00. Hopefully we'll have enough information by then to start formulating a plan." He paused and sighed softly. "I guess all I'm saying is that we're pulling an all-nighter on this one, so you can just relax. I've still got half the leadership here, which means I'm shouldering half the responsibility, so don't go and have an aneurism trying to take care of everything. Take the night off and get some rest. Tell Robin hello, and I guess I'll see you at Harry's."

"End of messages. To replay messages press--"

Amon leaned back on the couch and stared at his phone for a few long moments after hanging up. Frankly, he was shocked by how responsible everyone was acting--well, aside from the manipulation of his voice mail greeting, but that bit of irresponsibility was already a week old it seemed. He couldn't completely dismiss the fear at the back of his mind that Karasuma had shared more about the Director's sins than was absolutely necessary, but at the moment he was simply too grateful hearing that the night had not been completely wasted to care. His self-imposed guilt over his own hours of inactivity somewhat alleviated, he turned his attention to the next problem at hand.

Glaring at the phone as if it were at fault for what he knew he had to do, he punched in his half-brother's phone number reluctantly. He had never bothered to enter the number in his phone's memory, yet his own memory still had every digit easily stored away. It was a cruel irony that, no matter how much he might have liked to forget Nagira, his half-brother was just too useful to cut off ties with entirely--that's how his coolly logical mind saw it at least. Now that Robin had put him back in touch with his heart, Amon found it telling him he needed the connection with Nagira for more than practical reasons. Ignoring his overly talkative conscience and put the phone to his ear, he took comfort in the fact that it was still an ungodly hour of the morning and Nagira would likely be annoyed by the rude awakening.

The phone picked up on the second ring. "Well, well, well. If it isn't my wayward little brother," Nagira's deep voice purred, dripping with condescension.

"You're up early," Amon commented, equally startled by Nagira's unexpectedly coherent state of mind and the hoarseness of his own voice when he spoke. "Or perhaps you never went to bed."

Chuckling throatily, Nagira replied with the tell-tale drawl accompanying a drag on his cigarette, "I half suspect you didn't go to bed yet yourself judging by the condition of your voice, Amon, but who am I to talk? I have to admit I was rather surprised to see your name on my caller id though. Is the end of the world here already and I just didn't notice?"

"Actually," Amon replied sourly, "you might be surprised. But that's not why I called."

"So you just missed your big brother then. Maybe you need some of my sage wisdom and advice? You having troubles with your lady friend?"

"Even if my love life were any of your business, I certainly wouldn't ask for your advice about it. I'm calling about Simone."

Silence filled the connection between them for several long moments. The microphone on Nagira's phone buzzed softly as he exhaled a slow breath. "I see," Nagira said then, his voice very serious suddenly. "Last I heard she was doing fine. Have you changed your mind about wanting her to know about you?"

"Not at all," Amon answered quickly. "But I'm afraid she's in danger. Someone in Solomon knows about her, and he intends to use her against me."

"I see," Nagira said again, puffing on his cigarette again. Amon swore he could smell the smoke through the phone. "So, you want me to make her disappear, is that it?"

"You know the family who's raising her. I'm sure they want to keep her safe as much as I do."

"Shit, Amon. You sure know how to ask the impossible, don't you? Make a whole family disappear, just like that." Nagira's chair squeaked making Amon wince with the piercing sound. "I'll see what I can do. How quickly does this disappearing act need to occur?"

"As soon as possible." Amon caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and stiffened. His posture relaxed slowly when he saw Robin standing at the other end of the couch, her hair tangled around her heart-shaped face and her green eyes dark with exhaustion. Hugging herself, she shivered slightly in her oversized t-shirt, her pale legs folding up beneath her as she crawled up on the couch beside him.

Turning his attention back to the conversation, he heard his brother growl, "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," Amon replied evenly.

"Here I am going out on a limb for you, and you can barely stand to listen to me talk for five damn minutes," Nagira muttered. "I'll pull in some favors and get this taken care of for you, but by God, Amon, I'm not doing it for free this time. It's going to cost you, and I mean big time. You're going to take me out for dinner at that ridiculously expensive Italian place downtown, and we're going to spend an entire evening catching up and talking as if we actually care that we're family. You aren't backing out on me on this one, so you'd better mark it on your calendar. Got it?"

Amon sighed. "Yeah . . . I've got it."

"All right," Nagira said with satisfaction. "Then, I'll give you a call when everything's been taken care of. Good luck with that Armageddon thing."

"I'll do my best. And . . . Nagira . . ." Amon took a deep breath, beating his pride down with a baseball bat.

"Yes . . . ?" Nagira prompted in a sugary sweet voice, almost making Amon change his mind about what he had been about to say.

"Thanks."

"Anytime, little brudder." The tone of Nagira's voice was like a metaphysical noogie. "Now, stop worrying about your little girl and try to get at least a few hours of sleep, k? Love ya."

Amon listened to the dial tone for a few moments before shutting off his phone and turning to Robin. "Who's Nagira?" she asked, attempting to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

"No one," he replied tersely, dropping his phone to the end table. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She shrugged. "It's okay. The bed felt cold."

Amon observed her with a raised eyebrow; she certainly got used to his presence in her bed quickly. "You should go back to sleep," he commented when she tried to hide a yawn behind her hand.

"It's nearly dawn," she argued, her teeth chattering as she shivered again. "I always wake up at this time."

She hugged herself tighter, her thin frame quaking as goose bumps rose on her skin, and Amon could no longer refuse the impulse to stop her shivers. Without thought, he found himself pulling her into his lap, and rubbing her shoulder with one hand as he simultaneously reached for a throw blanket on the back of the couch with the other. Still shaking, she huddled closer against his chest as he wrapped the blanket around them. Trying desperately to keep from thinking too much about their position, Amon continued rubbing her side and shoulders--careful to avoid the bruised areas on her back--until her tremors stopped completely.

"Amon," she murmured against his neck. He closed his eyes at the sensation of her breath against his skin. Her voice was filled with apprehension as she continued, "Did you stay with me tonight because you were afraid Beatrice would control me again?"

He considered her question for a few moments, uncertain how to answer. "That possibility did occur to me," he said finally, looking down at her again, "but I don't think Beatrice intends to use you in that way again. It seems she only needs access to your power to do what she wants, and she no longer needs control of you to have control of your power."

"Then why did you stay?" Her voice sounded so fragile he found himself instinctively holding her tighter.

He could already see he would be wasting his time making excuses or telling her half-truths at this point since she was just going to keep asking questions until she wormed the truth out of him. "I stayed because I wanted to, Robin."

One of her hands started tracing light patterns on his chest somewhere hidden beneath the layers of blanket enveloping them and he nearly crawled out of his own skin at the innocent caress. What was it about her touches that always made him react so strongly? "What is going on between us, Amon?" she asked quietly. "I need to know if I'm ever going to have the opportunity to find out, or if you're going to push me away again tomorrow."

Sighing deeply, Amon rested his head against the back of the couch. "I'm sorry if I've hurt you with my indecision, Robin. I'm still trying to figure things out . . . But I do know one thing, if it is any consolation to you at all: I'm tired of fighting whatever is happening between us, and I'm tired of second guessing myself every step of the way."

"Good," she suddenly, and he opened his eyes in surprise at her tone. He found her smiling at him from a few inches away. "I'm tired of it too."

"That doesn't mean--" he started to explain, afraid she had misunderstood him.

"I know," she interjected, her expression so considered and mature he forgot for a moment that she was only fifteen. "I don't expect everything to work itself out overnight. But there's something I've been wanting to do since yesterday."

"Oh?"

She had turned in his lap and was now facing him directly as she looked down at him. Amon felt his heart rate increase suddenly with a hint of excitement tempered by panic as she leaned closer. Why was it that he instantly felt like a hormone-flooded teenager whenever she took the initiative? Was it simply because he was used to being in control, or was it because this was Robin leaning ever closer to him, closing her vividly green eyes with a flutter of lashes and pressing her velvet-soft lips against his own? He decided he didn't care what the reason was as he tentatively deepened their kiss, allowing her to dictate the pace at which they moved until he could stand the teasing touch of her lips brushing against his own no longer and found he needed more. She eagerly surrendered control, though not completely, he discovered, as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and found her boldly following his lead. He smiled into the kiss as he felt her fighting him for dominance, remembering a time when he had first learned this gentle girl could be fiercely determined when she wanted to be. He had been surprised at that time, when she had manipulated him with such ease into helping her find out more about the death of kind stranger she barely knew, but he was far more surprised to see her determination coming out now, in such an intimate situation.

She wove her fingers into his hair and pressed her slim body against his own, and he knew he would have to stop himself soon if he was going to be able to stop them both from taking things any further tonight, Amon broke the kiss gently and looked into her half-lidded eyes with a quiet smile. "Funny," he murmured. "I've been wanting to do that too."

She smiled back at him with a mischievous smirk he had never seen her make before. It was almost enough to make him ignore his common sense and claim her lips again, but he somehow managed to avoid the temptation, simply pulling her closer to him again and turning off the light. "It may be dawn," he mumbled, "but we still have a few hours before we're supposed to meet everyone else at Harry's. I intend to get at least a little sleep before then." He could feel her gaze on him even in the darkness. "Do you promise to behave yourself?"

"I'll be good," she answered simply, snuggling up against him again, and he could almost feel her smile.

I want an Amon cuddle-bunny too! I must just be missing my kitty. Rumour was my man replacement--lizalou and I often contemplated whom he looked like when he was in human form, because of course he could transform like that, you know. But seriously now, does anyone else find it ironical that Amon and Robin and making out on the very same couch where Touko and Amon made out in the first chapter of this very story? That couch gets around. You might call it a couch slut--and it isn't even a sexy couch or anything. Furniture whore. Anyone ever see the furniture porn website? I don't know if it's still around--a friend of mine shared it with me back in college and I have never been able to shake the imagery. Those "teen gay lawn chair sluts" are forever emblazoned in my memory. Anyway . . . I guess you'd have to see it to understand.

(1) I know Amon says "God doesn't forsake anyone" or something to that effect at the end of the series, but I like to think he developed that attitude over time because of Robin's influence. It certainly doesn't not seem in keeping with his character otherwise. Since I've strayed so far off the canon path, I thought I should clarify why I decided he's a little shaky in his belief in my story.

(2) In case anyone's interested, I did a little research and found that, despite the common perception that you should make certain someone stays awake when they have a concussion, apparently, it's not really an issue. In fact, it's good for them to rest. That's what the medical references I found said at least.

(3) Bad, Amon! Bad!!! Though he was only trying to be a gentleman . .. Yeah, right! He just wanted an opportunity to undress her since she got to undress him. Time for a debriefing!

(4) I know you all want to hear the greeting. No worries. You will get to hear (read) it eventually. But I have to be evil and keep you in suspense.

Okay, now to respond to everyone's reviews and get this posted before midnight so I can put up chapter 23 on the 23rd. Am I a dork or what? (Incidentally, I failed because the website was down--AGAIN!)

To omasuoniwabanshi: Cheetos . . . yummy. I'm about ready for a snack. I'm glad you're enjoying my fic as much as I enjoyed yours. Thank you so much for the generous compliments. Maybe I should have a vote just for curiosity's sake on exactly how Zaizen should die. I'm curious what everyone would come up with, though I've already heard some interesting ideas.

To lizalou42: Tortured characters? Coming right up. Would you like fries with that? Sorry, actually I don't have specific plans for torturing in the near future, though you know me . . . it's one of my favorite pastimes. I'm glad you liked Michael's reaction. I think it was about time he freaked out a bit. I know you're going to want to know how that scene went when Doujima and Sakaki patched him up. I agree that the dumpling dream wasn't all that long--I just didn't want to take away from the mood completely with a lot of craziness. But I definitely think there should be a dumpling dream part deux. Simone will not be a playable character in this game--er, story. But yes, the crazy parallels are disturbing but completely predictable when you're talking about me here.
At least Exedore did not sing FFVII music. Scary. Lied Center techie lingo . . . did Inuki notice? I'm glad you noticed the cut across the cheek. I couldn't help myself. Yah about the good action sequence! It was so hard to do . . . writing action not come easily. "live to annoy another day" You know Cymon's going to have to use that line sometime--he was the one who whispered it in my ear. Hmm . . . I wonder if Doujima's any good at putting on bandages. I think Michael should look like a mummy. :)

To Plastraa: What a compliment--my author's notes are interesting too? And I write those almost without thought. But I'm glad they're enjoyable! I've found that my author's notes have almost become like blog entries in some respects, so much so that I'm actually considering starting my own blog. I understand your feelings about the end of the series, though I had to wait a while between watching the majority of the series and the last two episodes and eventually caved in and spoiled myself. It was easier that way though since it felt slightly less anti-climactic. I was already prepared. Reading fanfic is the best remedy though. I remember my sorrow after watching the end of Cowboy Bebop. Only reading fanfic about Spike living on got me through that one.

To Fall's Plight: Thank you! I hope I haven't inadvertently spoiled anything for you since you haven't finished the series yet. I suppose this chapter did end up being a bit fluffy, huh?

To Sakura Rain: I suppose it makes since that the last chapter was so well received since I'd been waiting through like five chapters to get to it. The wait allowed me to build it up. This chapter, on the other hand, was brand spankin' new--though I had vague ideas about the general plot. I like the imagery of Robin praying for Amon too. It's so her.

To Cutlass317: I'm not sure if you'll ever even get to read this response since I don't know if you read beyond chapter 3. I probably should have emailed you, but I didn't think about it until now. Doh! Anyway, thank you so much for your detailed reviews. They were very helpful. I appreciate the nitpicky grammar stuff, though I have to admit I've already noticed most of it and changed it in my master copy. I really need to re-post edited versions of the earlier chapters because the more I read them the more mistakes I find. If you did get through the rest of the story, I hope you found that the fight scene in Inferno 1 and 2 were far more fleshed out than the early fight scene. That's partially because I didn't want to get too involved in the fight early on, and partially because writing action takes a lot of work for me. As for Amon and Robin not talking about how things went, I always though there was an awful lot of not talking going on between them early in the series, and I guess I wanted to emphasize that.

To yukari youkai: Mmm, delicious. I wonder what flavor this chapter was? grins coyly I'll have to try the tequila thing. Thank you again for the compliments! No dreams in this chapter, but I'm sure I'll be writing another one soon--I can't seem to be able to stop myself. :)

To Seashah: Long live Monty Python. And now for something completely different. I'm glad people weren't totally adverse to the daughter thing. I thought it fit, but it was a little risky since it does add an element to Amon's character which was never seen in the show. As for his craft, I'm still considering. I have my favorite as well, but I've seen other fics that came to the same conclusion, and I don't want to simply jump to the obvious conclusion. But then again, if it feels right . . . I think I've always named my computers. Wait a second. What's my computer's name now? Shit. Well, the last computer I had was named Hal and that didn't work out so well. But my car's named Quetzacoatl.

To Miuixtli: Congratulations, you won the "guessed the entire plot of the next chapter" award. I got a little feverish myself. And I liked frappuccino so much I made Doujima drink it. Poor Sakaki.

To AVAAntares: Though Robin sees fatherly qualities in Amon, it's true that he isn't exactly daddy material--at least not as he is now. The "one facial expression" thing is so true though. Feel free to write the career day scene with Simone if you like. I'd like to read it. How would you like to kill Zaizen? I'm still interviewing for the position. Please write a paragraph and explain why you feel you are qualified. Please include at least two character references. I need to know how diabolical you are. :)

To PomegranateQueen: Nikita rocks. And why the hell did Warner Bros pull the second season DVD's from the shelves right before they came out?! I'm dying here! Ironically, I got my mom hooked on Nikita and she wants to see more, but I don't have any of it on tape. Hence why I need the DVD's! I understand about being sheltered--my parents watched Moonlighting when it was on and I had NO idea what was going on. Then I caught it on Bravo a few years ago and got hooked.

To KiReI AyUmI: Interesting idea for Zaizen's death. I'll have to think about that. But hey, vengeance ain't a bad thing. I can imagine some of the thoughts going through Amon's head.

To Jewel of Tasuki: Sorry for the wait!

To bravedragon: Thank you. Who knows if I'll ever get around to another fic since this one is like the energizer bunny: it keeps going and going and going. But thank you.

To AngelD: Thanks. I'm still curious about what parts seemed to drag on so I can make them less draggy. Is that a word?

To Amon's Angel of the Darkness: Ah, the difficult questions. Amon does have a lot of tough choices to make because of Zaizen-ass.

To Jcgamer: Yeah, I would totally freak if my computer were destroyed. The fire alarm went off in my apartment building once when I was at school and it was the end of the semester and all the projects were coming due. Needless to say, I had a lot of time and effort put into things which were on my computer. So, on the off chance the alarm was for a real fire, I unplugged my computer and took it with me outside. Yeah. I'm nuts. But my computer was safe.

To Tiger of the Wind1: Yeah, I kept the daughter thing under wraps a long time. I try to balance the incredible angst with humor--it gives it validity some how. Real life is like that. Sometimes you're teetering on the edge between crying and laughing. Sorry for the wait. Now give me my frappuccino and salty foods back! :)

To AnimeReviewr790: Thanks for the review!

To Dark Mistress Meli: I bad. I sorry. I hope this chapter was good enough to make up for the wait.

To Beautiful Witch Hunter Robin: Thanks!

To FieldofPaperFlowers: You're penname comes from an Evanescence song, doesn't it? Strangely, I actually have that song in my head right now . . . I'm working on an AMV for Witch Hunter Robin to Tourniquet by Evanescence. And if that's not where your penname came from, I'm sorry for going on about it. :)

To indirockqueen: Don't worry. As I told an earlier reviewer, Simone will not be a playable character in this game--damnit, did it again. She will not be a main character. But I'm glad you agree that it's interesting how this secret gives Amon's character another layer. I'm glad you appreciated the RvB quote too.

To demon: I hope you were able to find the chapter eventually. The website was being a butt when I posted the first time.

To Ann: I'm not sure if I'll be able to live up to all the hopes for brutal Zaizen killing! Hope I haven't painted myself into a corner there. I couldn't help but think of honey, I shrunk the kids with the miniature Michael, but yes, dreams are often symbolic.

To Busoshwe: yeah, I learned my lesson about naming computers HAL with my last computer. Unfortunately, I didn't think to make note of the palindrome thing before 22. Or maybe I just hadn't had enough frap yet.

To Ellie: Poor Amon. It took me awhile to come up with the perfect blackmail as well, and I'm relieved that I'm not the only one who thinks it makes sense. No, unfortunately, Simone will not become a larger character in this fic, though it might be an interesting idea for a separate story. I'm reworking the earlier chapters of my original fic mostly, but I'll be sure to send it your way when I've got it put together again.

To Inuki: I think you might have spurred me on to post that last chapter sooner than I might have. Good for you! Good thoughts about how to defeat Zaizen. Talk of kill is important. There was a little bit more skin in this chapter--hope you enjoyed.